


All that is gold does not glitter, Not all those who wander are lost.

by WhatATime



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Bat Family, Batfamily Feels, Brotherly Affection, Brotherly Love, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Exhaustion, Ficlet Collection, Gen, Help, Hurt/Comfort, Insomnia, Jason Todd Needs A Hug, Jason Todd is Red Hood, More tags to be added, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Stars, Y'all can request on my Tumblr
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-26
Updated: 2019-04-28
Packaged: 2019-07-02 15:32:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 1,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15799416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhatATime/pseuds/WhatATime
Summary: Lil' FicletsSome written to my heart's desire.Y'all can request w/ my Tumblr: https://whatatime30.tumblr.com/





	1. Tiny Visitor (Tim & Damian)

**Author's Note:**

> Constructive criticism and Comments are welcome! Enjoy!

Tim was awoken by a prick. He groaned as he turned onto his abdomen. “Drake, flip or die.” He flipped back over. He was still in his Red Robin suit, having been too tired to sew himself up or change clothing. The clink of the bullet banged against his head. He groaned again. “Oh, shut up. I’ve not the time for your whining.” Damian put a pill to his dry lips. Tim sucked it reluctantly, chasing it down with water Damian had given him through a straw. The kid was prepared if he wasn’t anything else. 

***

Time was a blur until Damian slipped Tim’s boots off. “I can do it.” The boy ignored him as he continued with the other. Tim felt the bandage on his side. The lamp in his bedroom was on now. Damian pulled his pants off from his ankles, sliding on shorts seconds later. Tim’s face heated up. A blanket went over him. He curled into the warmth. The light was off, and his tiny visitor was gone.  


	2. It’s just me. (Dick & Jason)

“It’s just me, Jay.” Dick held his hands up in surrender. An obviously distressed Jason pointed a gun at him. Dick wasn’t sure if it was loaded, but why take any chances? The young man muttered to himself as he raised the gun to Dick’s chest. Dick sighed as he crouched in front of Jason. “It’s not there, okay? It’s just me. It’s Dick. I promise.”

“Dick,” Jason whispered.

“Yeah, it’s Dick.” The gun fell. Dick caught it, sliding it across the room. A deluge of tears began pouring from Jason’s face. Dick could feel the same thing prick his own. “You’re okay, Jay.” He wrapped his arms as far as he could around his little brother. “You’re okay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments make my day!


	3. Tomorrow (Dick & Jason)

Dick heard heavy breathing in his apartment. “Damian,” he called as he walked inside. There was no answer. “Timmy?” The teen sometimes crashed at Dick’s when Damian was being particularly bothersome. He readied his escrima sticks as he walked through the residence. He dropped them when he saw Jason in his bathroom. The young man dozed against the wall in front of the toilet. He looked smushed. “Jay?”

“Sorry,” he responded barely above a whisper.

“No reason to be sorry. Come for a visit?” Dick’s eyes wandered to the bandages on Jason’s hands. Jason laid his head back against the wall. “What happened to your hands?” Jason sighed quietly. “You wanna lay on the couch or something?” He knew he wasn’t getting Jason into a bed. Jason shook his head. “Want me to help you finish?” The bandages on his right hand weren’t fully wrapped. Dick kneeled in front of the young man, finishing them before Jason could resist. Dick tugged upwards. Jason stood and allowed Dick to lead him out of the bathroom and into the living room. Jason laid across the couch tiredly. Dick turned the TV onto the History Channel to distract him while he cleaned up the mess in the bathroom. Dick sighed as he picked up the bloody gauze and wiped the single smear of blood off of the side of the bathtub. “Jay…” 

 

Jason stared into the middle distance, his face towards the TV. His hands were crushed under him. “Jason.” There was no response. “Jay.” The little brother’s eyes focused on Dick. “You hungry?” He blinked lethargically. Dick went up to him and crouched. “Tell me what you need, Jay.” The blue eyes became glassy. “Did you get hit with anything? Should I be calling B?” Jason shook his head the slightest bit. “Talk to me, bud.”

“Sorry.” It was the same whisper Jason used the last time he said the word.

“Nothing to be sorry for. How’d you hurt your hands?”

“Messed up.”

“What’s messed up? Your hands?” Jason nodded. Dick muttered options to himself. “You tired, Jay,” he asked finally. He nodded. “‘Kay, let’s go to sleep. We’ll do the rest tomorrow.” Dick retrieved a blanket from his closet, the longest one, and spreaded it over Jason. He didn’t move. Dick sat down on the floor by Jason’s head. They sat in silence until the man’s lids finally fell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! If you have time, I'd appreciate a comment!


	4. Pillowtalk (Jason & Tim)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Shhh pillows don’t talk.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back again! Hopefully this is better quality than the other ones.

Tim woke with a warm weight on him. He tried to move, but found it stopping him. He cracked an eye open to see Jason sprawled over his legs at the end of the bed.

 

The young man slept soundly, soft snores coming from him along with long breaths.

 

“Jay?” Tim asked.

 

“Shh…” Jason said, sighing. “Pillows don’t talk.”

 

“What’re you doing here?”

 

“Too late to go home.”

 

“You have a room.”

 

“Bed’s too small.”

 

“Mine’s a full.”  _ Just like yours. _

 

“Hm.”

 

The returning silence helped Tim remember just how tired he was. “Fine,” he conceded, relaxing under Jason’s bulk and returning to his slumber.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comment if you liked!
> 
> You can request on my Tumblr, dryboneshallcomealive.


	5. Milky Way (Dick & Damian)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anon request: “ooh ooh... damian has insomnia and dick helps him”
> 
> Summary: The Milky Way galaxy’s shape is not natural. According to many scientists, the influence of dark matter on Magellanic clouds is the cause of the galaxy’s spiral form. Damian subscribes to this philosophy for more than just astronomy. He subscribes to it like a consumer’s catalogue.

 

The Milky Way galaxy’s shape is not natural. According to many scientists, the influence of dark matter on Magellanic clouds is the cause of the galaxy’s spiral form. Damian subscribes to this philosophy for more than just astronomy. He subscribes to it like a consumer’s catalogue.

 

He mulls over the similarities in a mental catalogue of his life, filling out his order form with the inevitable, dark matter tainted events of his past and present, skipping a few pages ahead to see what he can order for his future (as if he’s even allowed to fill it out himself).

 

So, Damian sits on the roof, pensive and anxious for his next order to come in.

 

“What’re you doing?” The small patters must be Grayson, as he’s the only one who ever gives Damian a voluntary heads up to his imminent arrival.

 

“Waiting,” Damian answers quietly, not in the mood to disturb nature’s peace with a sharp-toothed retort.

 

“I’ll…” Dick plops down beside him. “Wait with you.”

 

Damian nods. The company of a pure cloud is nice.

 

They don’t talk. Damian doesn’t like talking in actuality, but his introversion often takes a second place to the necessity of confidence. Dick Grayson’s talking is as natural as the icy exterior on Pluto. Yet, he can let it melt and reveal the rockiness for comfort.

 

Dick wraps an arm around Damian, pulling the boy close.

 

Damian presses a cheek to the young man’s side. Is Mercury this warm?

 

Time goes by. Damian doesn’t know how much.

 

“Whatcha thinking about, kiddo?” Dick asks.

 

Damian shrugs. He’s sure, but he’s not. Dick doesn’t need to know how, whenever he sleeps, something gnaws in his middle and brings more pain than Heretic’s sword ever did. He just wants to breathe in the clean, untainted air of Dick Grayson’s air, worry about the rest tomorrow.

 

He does.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think the fics are getting better as my writing does in this collection. I'd be happy to know if y'all enjoyed it, and you can request your own at my tumblr, which is drybonesshallcomealive (drybonesshallcomealive.tumblr.com). Thanks for making it through!
> 
> \-- Heidi


	6. Big Emotions (Tim)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim doesn’t much like his reality or perception of it ruined.

Tim doesn’t feel big emotions. He’s always at least a little numb. Things make him happy. Things make him sad. But he’s never had an emotion overcome him. He’s been on the brink of it before, but he’s never felt pure happiness or melancholy. He feels, but there’s something inside him that keeps him from feeling everything to its fullest.

 

Tim thinks that-- at this point-- if he ever felt a pure, untainted emotion, his heart would give out from beating to fast and experiencing too much. Feelings are too much. Full feelings are too much, anyway. They make one’s heart flutter, and one’s stomach drop, and they distort reality.

 

Tim doesn’t much like his reality or perception of it ruined.

 

Maybe full feelings are good, though. It’s not as if he would know. He wants to ask Jason or Dick. They always seem to feel everything in a great proportion, especially Jason. The Red Hood’s a dynamite stick. Tim thinks he’d like to be a stick of poorly made dynamite rather than a lighter with a particularly difficult child lock.

 

Tim finds himself not going home after patrol. His self is found in the corner of a mostly abandoned diner that smells like grease and coffee. He plays with his wallet in his hands. Will he eat? Will he drink? What’s there to do in a diner of grease and coffee? Do they sell burgers? Do they have decaf? Should he have gone to the Batburgers two blocks over?

 

No.

 

That’s all it is.

 

He takes the surprisingly clean laminated menu and inspects his choices. Half the items are crossed out with a sharpie. They’re all things Tim probably wouldn’t want anyway. He decides on steak fries, a coffee, and Zesti, and he tells the woman at the counter such.

 

While Tim waits, he kneads his fingers into the gap between his legs. He waits, waits, pulls out his wallet, sets a twenty down, runs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My tumblr is drybonesshallcomealive. Come talk to me or request there!


	7. Real and Not Real

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There’s real, and there’s not real. 
> 
> The postulate is so simple in theory, but shadowed by the empirical, it’s not real, improbable.

There’s real, and there’s not real. 

 

The postulate is so simple in theory, but shadowed by the empirical, it’s not real, improbable.

 

There are those of us that don’t like the real. Or, maybe it’s not that we don’t like the real. It’s that we don’t like when the real is outnumbered by the not real. Because when the not real outnumbers the real, the not real wraps around the real and chokes it like a weed a flower.

 

Tim doesn’t like the not real. He feels it creeping up and around his roots, lessening his water supply. He takes a breath, ignores the gnawing at his stem, acknowledges the bloom at the very top.

 

He sits in the Wayne Manor library, Dick at his feet. He’s not sure why he or Dick are here, considering they have their own homes and can go to other libraries or borrow the ones in the manor’s.

 

Dick’s hair tickles his sockless feet. He swallows several times and lets the saliva travel over the lump in his throat. He flips the crisp book page, listens to the paper run against its cousin. He sniffs, takes in the cinnamon tinged air.

 

Something’s wrong. Something’s so very wrong.

 

The unreal is creeping in.

 

The room around him tightens along with the weed that’s turning into a noose.

 

He tries to breathe like he did a mere minute ago, but all that comes out is a choked sob.

 

Tim is crying. He doesn’t know why. He wipes tears from his eyes as more gush out and sniffles. He can’t breathe. 

 

Something’s wrong. Something’s wrong. What’s wrong?

 

His heart thumps like a little drummer boy’s beating against his chest. It won’t stop.

 

It won’t stop and he can’t breathe and he’s crying and--

 

A shush.

 

A shush like a breeze. A shush that dances in the wind on a cliff, tugging at the weed, loosening the noose, dragging Tim from the edge.

 

_ It’s okay. _

 

It’s not okay. It’s not okay, but the air is coming back through his lungs and the little drummer boy has stopped beating and the tears drip instead of pour. It’s not okay.

 

_ It’s okay. You’re okay. _

 

Small circles. Deep circles. Soothing circles. All are in Tim’s back.

 

And now he’s not so sure why everything’s wrong because it’s been righted in an instant.

 

_ Why didn’t you tell me? _

 

The real is returning, and the not real has gone away.

**Author's Note:**

> whatatime30 is my tumblr 
> 
> tell me if u liked it!


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